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Today, I am given to opportunity to reflect in my experiences on
what it is meant to be broken and how this theme occurs in my life,
how it has affected me, and how it has made me who I am today. So I
did a little research just to see what the word broken even means!
How would one define breaking at all? One of the things that
surprised me, was that to break does not mean to split into little
pieces, to separate one large unit into smaller ones, but rather
stronger words like destroyed, forcibly separated, violated,
crushed, ruined are often used to describe it.
Yet in my life, my choices and my struggles to always be the best I
can be, I realize, it is necessary to be broken, to be split and
shattered. Only when I see myself for who I am in the true light of
those around me, I can be whole again.
A long time ago, in a simpler time, I was just a child with two
younger brothers and a mother and a father. That was all I knew; my
parents had escaped from Vietnam, were sponsored to Canada, got
married and I was born in Canada. Times were not easy, my father had
to start his university education all over and my mother was the
only one working, in a factory no less. She supported our family of
five. I went to school and brought home straight A’s. We learned as
kids never to ask for anything because mom and dad worked very hard
for their money and that we shouldn’t waste money on material
possessions. I had all I needed in our weekly MacDonald trips and
looked forward to buying a new movie whenever one of our birthdays
would come around. Every week we went to church, my parents were
very faithful and took the whole family to pray every Sunday and
often on Saturdays.
And then I started high school. I continued to keep high marks
because; as a child that was my job and that was what I was supposed
to do. That was when my parents joined a prayer group. This prayer
group was very active and prayed several times a week and it was
certain that on the weekend that my brothers and I would never see
our parents. As I got older, I questioned why they went so often; we
needed them at home; yet I was always home to look after my
brothers. The response I got, “Lúc ba má đi cầu nguyện, ba má cầu
nguyện để Chúa luôn luôn gìn giữ con và chăm sóc con.” To that I
always said ,” I don’t need God to take care of me, I want you home
to take care of us.” But they always left and that’s when I started
to resent my parents and the church. It was at this point in my life
that I was torn up inside. All my life I was taught to be a good
Catholic, go to church on Sundays, follow the ten commandments, and
pray! Yet it was my parents’ devotion to our Lady and Jesus that
took my parents away from us and made me wonder, “God, is this what
you want? Why do I feel abandoned when my parents are doing YOUR
work?” And then, I realized I was praying. I also realized that in
my pain I lashed out against God because I was the selfish one, I
did not see the true joy my parents found in doing God’s work;
instead of hating them for that, I should be supporting them. It was
during this time when my brothers & I got very close; all we had was
each other and now looking back, I should have cherished those
moments as they were not to last forever.
As I started making more friends, friends that wanted to watch
movies on Fridays, hang out in the weekends, I got in monthly fights
with my parents because they would not let me go. Many times because
they did not know who my English friends were and would not take the
time to get to know them. I was miserable, how come I was the one
locked up in my room when all my friends got to go out. I did so
well in school, I tried so hard to be good at home, but I didn’t get
rewarded at all. But for some reason, they always let me out with my
Vietnamese friends. Of course we all went to Church together and I
was fortunate because at the age of 16-17, Chien Con (our local
Vietnamese youth group) had a lot of fun events and the friends I
made then are still with me today.
Coming into university, I was riding high, getting into my school of
choice with top grades and the respect of my parents. I was doing
well in school, working full time every 4 months as part of my
program making great money. As a young man 19-20, I had way too much
money for my own good, and for once going to school away from home,
I had all the freedom I wanted. I worked hard and played hard, and
that’s when the trouble started. I was always the fun guy with my
crowd, the girls started to notice me and then it was just spend,
spend, and spend. A couple years into university I hit a brick wall;
I was living on my own, studying at the time. All of a sudden I
found myself in debt. I tried for 2 months, spending as little as I
could on groceries. When my funds ran out I even started doing
psychology experiments for $10-$20 dollars at a time. I was so
ashamed and scared to ask anybody for help. Then it happened, I had
no way out. Mom and Dad just listened while I told them what had
happened, and then came the question that I had been trying to hide
away. My conscience and my parents were saying the exact same thing,
“What were you thinking?” When I thought things couldn’t get any
worse, they said, how much do you need? My parents bailed me out;
they did not hate me for it. And for the first time in a long time,
I was at a loss for words. They showed me love and a forgiveness
that I did not deserve and all this time I just thought we were
worlds apart. It is in this moment that I felt that God revealed
himself through my parents and I really started to understand the
unconditional love he has for each one of us.
Yet very soon after that, we became distant again and it just seemed
that after a few years, we just didn’t know what to say to each
other. I loved my parents and I knew that loved me, it was just so
hard to show it. I realized that they never stopped loving me, it’s
just the world they grew up full of war and loss, I could never
fully understand. And they could not understand how it was so easy
for me to take things for granted here, to them my life looked so
simple. I had many struggles that were very real to me, but they
could not understand my obstacles. It is only now that I see how it
is really possible for two sides to hurt, when in reality, they want
the same thing. Now I try, there’s nothing more I want in the world
to see them happy and I know that they won’t rest until they know
that I have everything I need to succeed in my life.
I appreciate now what my parents did for me, as a teenager I felt so
locked up, so trapped. It was in these moments that I felt alone and
abandoned and I only knew hatred. Yet because of that I was not
distracted in school and achieved everything I needed. I thought it
was so odd that they encouraged and let me hang out with the young
Vietnamese people they knew. It’s because we were all going through
the same thing. Unlike my English friends, all my Viet friends were
very focused on school and we all wanted to be successful and were
willing to work hard for it. It took me 20 years, but I learned to
say I love you to my parents, and it was so hard, but when I looked
at my father I realized it was very hard for him to say anything
like that out loud. Coming from a background where actions speak
louder than words, it is just surprising how much power there is in
words.
I realize now that the moments I was most lost and felt most
betrayed were necessary for me to realize why my parents acted the
way they did. Had it not been for those moments, I would have gone
on in life never truly appreciating them and never truly loving
them. It was in my brokenness that I could see past my hatred and
humble myself to do the right thing and that truth has made me
whole.
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